


Rotation

by fractionallyfoxtrot



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe, In which Martin and Douglas have a son, Kid Fic, M/M, Sleepless nights due to crying babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 13:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1267750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractionallyfoxtrot/pseuds/fractionallyfoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin knows even before his sleep-addled mind can fully process the sound of crying that it's Douglas' turn to see to their son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rotation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Douglas and Martin have a surrogate child](http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/6625.html?thread=12767713#cmt12767713) prompt on the meme.
> 
> [Inspiration for Charlie.](http://navydream.tumblr.com/post/55542336565/commission-for-the-lovely-tracionn-cabin)   
> [Inspiration for Charlie's plush GERTI.](http://buneesi.tumblr.com/post/52345267353/tada-baby-martin-and-his-plane-based-on-designs)

The sharp, night air-piercing cry echoed through the house, easily making its way from the nursery to the master bedroom.

There was barely a pause as young lungs took in a quick breath of air before the cry started again. Martin turned onto his side, keeping his eyes closed in an attempt to hold on to his slumber as he futilely pressed his pillow over his ears.

“It’s your turn, Douglas,” he mumbled, nudging his partner with his foot when the other man failed to move.

Douglas groaned as he rolled over but his weight didn’t leave the bed.

“It can’t be my turn _again_ ,” he grumbled, his voice muffled by his pillow.

“Of course it is.”

“I think you miscounted.”

“I did not miscount,” Martin argued, raising his voice slightly to compete with the rising cry coming from the nursery. “It’s _your_ turn.” He groped blindly at the nightstand, resigning to being fully woken up as he opened his eyes to read the chart he retrieved from the drawer. “See? Eleven fifteen: Martin. Twelve twenty-seven: Douglas. One thirty: Martin. Two,” Martin glanced at the clock, “twelve: Douglas.”

Martin felt warmth and weight press up behind him as an arm reached over and pulled the chart from his hand, leaving a trail of ink from the ‘s’ in ‘Douglas’ in its wake. Douglas took a quick look at the paper before slumping down on top of Martin and letting the chart slip out of his hand.

“You’ve got a chart,” he muttered into the back of Martin’s neck.

Martin struggled under Douglas’ body, trying to turn his head and make his point.

“It’s important to monitor his sleeping pattern during the-”

“Fine,” Douglas groaned, pushing himself off of Martin. “I’m hardly going to argue with you and your _chart_ at two in the morning. Go back to sleep. I’ve got him.”

Douglas reluctantly stood from the bed, pulled on a t-shirt, and quietly made for the nursery. Martin rolled over, watching him go. He waited until he heard the hall light click on and the nursery door open before sprawling out in the middle of the bed, face nestled in the cool side of the pillow, to await the gentle pull of slumber once again.

He’d just drifted off when he felt Douglas’ hand on his shoulder.

“Martin, get up.”

Martin shook his head, turning away from the touch.

“It’s your turn,” he complained.

“I know it’s my turn,” Douglas said, trying to roll Martin back towards him, “but there’s something in the nursery I think you should see.”

“What? Why?” Martin sat up quickly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Douglas assured him, giving Martin a light kiss on his forehead. “There’s just something I think you should see.”

Martin blinked in confusion but allowed Douglas to pull him out of bed and lead him down the quiet hall to the nursery. He felt a flash of panic when he saw the empty cot but it quickly faded when he spotted Charlie.

Charlie was a very short distance away from his empty cot, snuggled safely in the arms of his older sister Verity.

Verity sat in the rocking chair that’d been in Douglas’ house since she was a baby. Her feet were propped up on a small toy box, allowing her to rest her arms on her legs for extra support while gently rocking the chair back and forth. Her head was bent down near Charlie’s, her dark brown hair falling over Charlie’s light red curls as she whispered something secret, for his ears only. Verity punctuated her sentence with a light tap to Charlie’s nose.

Charlie made a grab for her finger but got sidetracked by a big yawn. Verity smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her younger brother’s forehead before slowly standing and setting him back down in his cot. She whispered one last sentiment as she reached over the side to place Charlie’s plush GERTI at his side.

“Well?” Douglas asked, wrapping his arms around Martin’s waist.

Martin settled back against Douglas’ warmth as he watched Douglas’ daughter—their daughter—finish tucking in their son.

“I guess it wasn’t your turn after all,” he chuckled.


End file.
